


Some kind of nostalgia

by Skylark



Series: HSWC 2013 [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward and strained meteor relationships, Character Study, F/M, Karkat having a lot of feelings, Nostalgia, Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Terezi came to your hive, you were terrified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some kind of nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "God gave us memory so that we may have roses in December." --J. M. Barrie

The first time Terezi came to your hive, you were terrified. You tried to tell her no when she first proposed a visit, but she wouldn't take no for an answer: she ignored your blustering and your threats, and learned your hive's location somehow (probably Sollux). She showed up at your doorstep with a cane and a too-toothed grin, and when you said you wouldn't let her inside, she threw her head back and laughed.

“I have permission to search the premises!” she said, brandishing a piece of paper slightly to the right of you. The writing would have been illegible even if she weren't shaking it for emphasis.

“That's a pile of shit, and you know it. You wrote that paper yourself! It doesn't mean anything, what kind of legislacerator are you?” you snapped back, hating the tremor in your voice. “Go home!”

She leaned in close to you, so close you could see yourself reflected in her candy-red shades, and breathed in deep. You flinched and the the movement dislodged your grip on your doorframe, and instantly she pushed past you. “Terezi!” you snapped, but it was too late, her hands were everywhere. You chased her, trying to keep things from her seeking hands, but there was no hiding from her; there never was.

She turned to you and placed a sure hand against your cheek, and your tirade froze in your throat. “Karkat Vantas,” she said, “your home is a mess. The construction of this hive breaks at least five standards as outlined by edict 23b, section 5. This must be remedied at once.”

“You're citing _space law_ , you idiot, nobody cares what we do here on Alternia.”

A shadow passed behind her manic smile, and you didn't know what to make of it. “The law is the law,” she told you. “Anywhere you go! It is a constant upon which we can base the machinations of our everyday lives.”

Her hand was still on your cheek, her yellow-tipped claws prickling against your skin. You were still frozen, a prey creature caught in a predator's line of sight. She cocked her head, considering you with her sharpest senses, and then she had the gall to _pap_ you. You tried to hiss and it came out a confused sort of whine.

“Terezi,” you finally managed, “What are you _doing_ here?”

“Helping you,” she replied with a flash of her heart-stopping grin. “Who else would help you but me?”

 

She stayed nearly until sunrise. When she finally went home, she left a strange ache in your chest as a parting gift. You suffered with it for years.

\--

The point is, it isn't your first time sharing living quarters with her. But it's the memory of that first contact that's always stuck in your mind—the way her horns gleamed in the light filtering through your open door, the way her blind sight cut right through you. The way you moved from fear to resignation in under ten minutes. The way Terezi pushed her way into your life like she belonged there.

These days, Terezi avoids you. You avoid her, too; at least, you tell yourself that, you say it's mutual. Just giving her space, playing it cool. You won't let yourself be that kind of pathetic. But you still search out signs that she's marked this place as hers: her chickenscratch writing scrawled on paper and halfway across the table underneath, broken-down scalemates, red chalk dust caught in the corners.

Sometimes you can hear Terezi's laughter echoing down the hallways. She doesn't laugh like that anymore, not around you. You close your eyes, then, and turn to memory: Terezi laughing on your doorstep in the moonlight, harsh and lovely, not yours but not yet anyone else's, either. It's one of the best things you have.


End file.
